


Just a Hiatus

by dayindisguise



Category: Avenged Sevenfold
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, M/M, Mutual Pining, Separations, Solider Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:19:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayindisguise/pseuds/dayindisguise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> “Yeah… I know.” Matt finally spoke, turning onto his side, illuminating more of his face in the pale light, just enough for Brian to see a sad, but understanding smile. That was one of the best things about having a best friend who you’d known longer than you could remember. Matt had always been his partner in crime, had always known what he was thinking without having to say anything. A decade of time spent together, and now it was coming to a hiatus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Hiatus

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted under my livejournal username **hinderedheroine**.

“So… when… uh… when are you going to be coming back?” The slightly older man had spoken, back pressed to the dewy grass beneath him, head tilted towards the other male lying next to him. This wasn’t exactly the most ideal situation, but this was the way it had to be. They had both made choices, and those choices had planted an ocean in between where one would be, and the other remained.

“Three years. I’m in for three years, then I can get out.” The younger man’s face was silhouetted by the moonlight, their late night/early morning escape had been the only option to say goodbye, or else stand in front of all of the younger man’s family, receive a firm handshake and a brotherly hug before he drove off. That wasn’t their style. There had to be more to it.

“Three years is a long time, Sanders… you know that, right?”

“Yeah, Haner… I know.”

A silence fell between them, not the comfortable kind of silence that usually came about during the nights they spent together, after partying or just hanging out, when they had no more words and just enjoyed the other’s company. This wasn’t that kind of silence at all. This one made Brian’s chest ache.

“I…” Brian trailed off, scratching at his ribcage idly, the syllable slipping out simply to break the silence, or at least that was what it sounded like. He had so many things rushing through his mind, and no matter how many times he opened his mouth, he could never get past that first syllable.

“Yeah… I know.” Matt finally spoke, turning onto his side, illuminating more of his face in the pale light, just enough for Brian to see a sad, but understanding smile. That was one of the best things about having a best friend who you’d known longer than you could remember. Matt had always been his partner in crime, had always known what he was thinking without having to say anything. A decade of time spent together, and now it was coming to a hiatus.

Sure, Matt had gone on vacation with his family before, and Brian had gone on vacation, but the longest they had managed to be apart had been twenty-seven days. Twenty-seven days and they were practically ripping the car door off of its hinges in a rush to get to the other’s house to detail their lonesome escapades and to fill the void they had left with. This was different. This was three years. This was not talking to each other every day, or seeing each other every day. This would mean limited contact for months before Brian would get a phone call, or Matt would get lucky and hijack a computer and establish some kind of shitty contact. Shitty contact that would mean everything to the two of them.

“You know… I’m not gonna forget you, Bri.” The words were heavy in the air, and when Brian rolled onto his side, his eyes matching up with Matt’s from where they were laying, Matt could have sworn he saw a hint of relief wash over Brian’s face.

“I know that… I know you won’t forget me. How could you? You don’t just… forget someone you spent ten years wreaking havoc with… Right?” The insecurity was there, exactly where Matt expected it to be, and with a slow exhale, the younger man shook his head.

“Right. Besides, I’m going to write you shitty letters and call whenever I get the chance to tell you how awesome it is, or how much it fucking sucks.” Matt laughed his words, that grin spreading on his lips, though even in the dim light, Brian could see it didn’t reach his eyes, and there were no dimples in sight.

“I expect that, Private Sanders. I expect shitty ass letters and phone calls and you telling me how much it sucks without me there.” Brian was chuckling this time, though it was obvious he tried to hide it at first. Matt’s laugh was contagious. He couldn’t help himself. The older man rolled closer again, lightly bumping Matt with his shoulder before he settled on the grass about three inches away from him.

“Don’t worry. I already know it’s going to be fucked up without you.”

The silence fell over them again, but this time it wasn’t quite as painful. It still made Brian’s chest ache, but the reassurance had done him some good. Matt, though… he wasn’t doing quite so well.

Everything he had known was going to be gone when he drove away this morning, with his bags packed, and he’d be gone for three years. Three years was a lifetime when you were eighteen and leaving behind the kid who you were practically attached to through childhood and puberty. Without Brian, there would be no havoc gone too far, no fucked up shenanigans that made the best stories. He wouldn’t be ‘Shads’, he’d be ‘Private Sanders’, or ‘Sanders’ to those who were getting to know him. Uprooting and shipping off would be the second shittiest part of the situation. The first was pretty clear.

“Shads?” Brian’s voice was quiet this time, soft, a tone Matt hardly recognized, and for a moment the younger man was worried. Had he broken Brian, the most synyster of all?

“Yeah, Gates?” Matt’s voice matched the tone without even trying, some kind of innate force making his voice drop to a whisper.

“This… this fucking sucks.”

All Matt could think of, the only thing that came to his mind, was done quickly and quietly, just the gentle rustling of the grass as he moved and slipped tone arms around the other male, one arm moving across his chest as the other snaked under his back, not expecting the hug to be returned. It was a bit of an awkward position, Brian laying on his back and the ground being in the way, but when Brian shifted and just as eagerly wrapped his arms around Matt, it wasn’t quite so hard.

But it hurt. It felt good, and it felt right, but it fucking hurt. Brian’s fingers had dug into the dampened material of Matt’s shirt by this point, gripping tight as if Matt was trying to disappear now instead of in seven hours. Matt wasn’t going anywhere yet. He wasn’t ready. His long, lean fingers held tight to the hem of Brian’s shirt, inwardly hoping he wouldn’t rip the seams, but knowing it could happen if he didn’t keep himself under control.

“This fucking sucks, Shads.” The words were repeated just south of Matt’s ear by a mumbled Brian, a Brian who no one saw upset except for Matt. A Brian who prided himself on being strong, touch, macho, all of the masculine adjectives in the dictionary. This was not the Brian that everyone saw in elementary school, junior high or high school. This was the Brian that was reserved for Matt.

“Yeah… I know.”

Soft, hiccup-like breaths were in Matt’s ear this time, and if he hadn’t been doing his best to keep composed, surely his own voice would have mirrored them. He needed to be strong, and he knew that. They couldn’t both have little breakdowns in the grass at midnight in the park a few streets over from Brian’s house. He was the one who was leaving, so he needed to be the rock for his best friend.  “I know… but hopefully… maybe… maybe I’ll be back home early… or I’ll get time to come back… or… something.”

“I won’t hold my breath… not until the three year mark is up.”

It took another hour, but finally Brian had gathered himself enough to pull away, but he didn’t get too far. As girly and stupid as it was, his fingers were wrapped in the other man’s, and he didn’t give a shit. People could say what they wanted, mock them, what the fuck ever, but this was his best friend, and he wasn’t quite ready to let go yet.

They made it to Brian’s door by two in the morning, taking their time getting home, fingers still locked together, no one seeing the almost silent pair as they whispered and walked through the silent streets, worn converse shuffling against the asphalt, the concrete of the sidewalk. To the back door, Matt lead the way, tugging an unwilling Brian along with him. He knew the sooner they got to that door, the sooner Matt would have to go, and their goodbye would be over. They’d have to do the stupid handshake, brotherly hug shit again before he left, but Brian knew that was non-negotiable.

“I have a dozen shitty pictures of us in my bag, and paper, and pens… I promise, I’ll write as soon as I can, even if I can get a hold of a phone.”

“This fucking sucks… you fucking suck, Shads.” Brian grumbled, looking down at the lean fingers in his own, eyes dark and full of a forming despair. Yes, it was that big of a deal.

“I know, Bri… Believe me, I know.” The younger man took a second, lifting his best friend’s chin in a friend-like fashion, meeting his eyes and forging a smile from somewhere he was attempting to lock up. “Just… don’t forget me, alright? I’ll keep up my end of the bargain s’long as you do.”

“You know I will.” Brian exhaled, squeezing the hand in his own and giving a short nod before releasing his best friend’s fingers and taking a step back.

“I’m leaving at seven… so… I’ll see you then. Right?”

“Count on it, fucker.” Brian smiled for what felt like it would be the last time, giving a little salute before silently opening up his back door and disappearing inside, crawling into his bed as quickly and quietly as possible to avoid watching Matt saunter away in the darkness.

-

Brian was quick to leap out of bed when his alarm went off, not wanting to be late, not wanting to miss his best friend before he was gone for the next three years. A quick shower and half a bagel shoved in his mouth was all he needed before he was dressed and out the door, jogging the handful of blocks to Matt’s house.

The jeep wasn’t in the driveway.

Brian practically choked on the food he was swallowing as he stared at the empty driveway, speeding like a bullet to the front door of the Sanders’ home and knocking rapidly.

A startled Mrs. Sanders answered the door, startled until her eyes settled on Brian’s face, and a sad, soft smile set on her lips. “We missed you this morning… he missed you.”

“What… what do you mean, he missed me? It’s like 6:30… Why is he gone early?” Brian’s voice was frantic, his heart pounding inside of his chest as he looked behind him again, as if the jeep was magically going to reappear so he could say a formal goodbye to his best friend.

“Brian, sweetie… it’s nine in the morning… They left two hours ago. But… he left this for you? Said he was going to give it to you when he got here… I swear, I haven’t… Nevermind… Here.” Mrs. Sanders seemed to rethink her words as she handed the folded pieces of paper over to the teen in front of her.

“What? You haven’t, what?” Brian practically begged as he clutched the papers in his hand, hoping she would say something encouraging.

“It’s not your fault, honey… I just… I haven’t seen that boy so sad in such a long time. Since the time you went on vacation for three weeks and forgot to say goodbye. I’m sure it was just leaving. Don’t worry about it, Brian.

Brian turned without a word, walking from the doorstep with all of the life drained out of him, fingers clutching at the papers in his hand like his life depended on it, but that was about as much energy as he had. He’d let his best friend down, missed his only opportunity to see him before he left, right before he left, because of his fucking alarm clock.

He stopped in the middle of the park where they’d been the night before and unfolded the papers in his hand after taking a seat, a ghost of a smile moving over his lips at the first one.

_“Roses are red, Violets are blue. This is going to fucking suck donkey ass without you.”_

The second was shorter, scribbled quickly, and Brian could tell by the super sloppy writing that he’d done it in a hurry. The date in the corner, which Matt was always so damn anal about was dated for today.

_“Gates,_

_I know you probably have a good reason for not being here, but it’s shitty anyway. I was going to call you, but I figured I’d just let you come on your own, or not come at all. It’s like ten to seven, and I know you’ll be here sooner or later, so I’ll give this to my mom for you. I love you, fucker. You’re the best friend I could have asked for, and I won’t forget you, even if I get my brains blown out. You’re always going to be my shitty-ass sidekick. I’ll talk to you soon as I can._

_Shads”_

Brian managed to find his way home, despite his eyes hardly leaving the paper, and he crawled right back into his unmade bed, papers held tightly between his fingers, wishing he’d stood at the door and watched Matt’s back as he disappeared down the sidewalk. That would have been a better goodbye than turning his back as if he wasn’t there.

-

The first phone call came in the middle of the night, when Matt had figured Brian would be awake. Brian was surrounded by empty bottles of shitty beer in this guy Zack’s basement with fifteen other kids, just as unconscious as he was. He didn’t hear his phone, feel it vibrating, but when he woke up in the morning feeling like the shit had been kicked out of him, Matt’s voice was the first thing he heard from his cell phone.

_”So I’m still in California… it’s been like four weeks of really hard training and boot camp and guns and it sucks and everything hurts… but it’s good. Its challenging and there are some awesome guys here. You know, I think you’d like it, if you weren’t such a lazy fuck. We’re shipping out for fucking… where are we going… Italy? In like four days. Hopefully I can steal the phone again before then. Sleep sweet, Princess. I’ll give you a shout soon as I can.”_

About to smash his phone against his forehead and then against the sink, the only thing that kept Brian from doing it was knowing that this was his only line of contact with Matt. He knew he couldn’t call the number back and ask for Private Sanders. He didn’t want to get annihilated or get Matt in shit or something like that. He ended up vomiting a lot, listening to the voicemail again once or twice, or fifteen times when he finally got his shit together and headed home. Four weeks, one phone call, and he’d been too fucking drunk to answer.

-

The second time, he’d been in the shower. Soaked and soaped from head to toe, and his phone had started ringing like a bitch on the counter. Maybe he’d been a little attached to it since the drunk incident three days before, but who wouldn’t be? He’d hardly had time to shut off the water and jump onto the bathmat, grabbing a towel to de-shampoo one of his ears just enough to shove his phone against it.

“Hel… Hello? Hello!?” Brian answered, his voice eager and a bit anxious. The laughter that sounded from the other end of the phone had him sinking down onto the floor, soapy head leaning back against the cabinet.

“Did I call at a bad time?” Matt didn’t even sound like he was sorry if he had. It wasn’t like he had all the time in the world to kick around and call his best friend. But when he did have time, and access, he was going to fucking do it.

“Fuck off. I was in the shower… And for the record, I was passed out in Baker’s basement, so I couldn’t answer the phone last time. I’m fucking sorry… I’m really fucking sorry about when you left. I didn’t set my clock right apparently and I got to your house at nine and your mom gave me the letter and your shitty ass poem… Fuck, that sucked.”

“Well, at least you have your priorities straight, right? I’m glad you liked it, asshole.” Matt grinned, his heart practically soaring by this point. He’d known there had to be shitty circumstances that lead to Brian not being there when he left, but that felt like ages ago now, and it didn’t suck as much. He had him on the phone now.

“Shut up… So it’s good? Doesn’t suck too much?” Brian sounded a little hopeful, as if Matt could come home if he didn’t like what was happening. He wished.

“Nah. The getting up early and being treated like shit sometimes is pretty awful, but it’s life, right? It’s paying well too. We’ll have to go to Vegas or something when I get back. Blow some money, fuck some hookers, you know… live the dream.” Matt’s voice was music to Brian’s ears, and though he kind of wished his best friend was having a shittier time, for his own sake, he was glad to hear that he wasn’t miserable.

“Sounds good to me. As long as you’re paying.” Brian managed a grin, but it didn’t last. He could hear shouting in the background, and a heavy sigh from Matt had cut their conversation short.

“Well, I gotta go before I get skinned or some shitty duty. I’ll call you again when I’m stationed in… wherever the fuck they’re sending us. Italy. I’ll send you some kind of postcard, letter… shit. Just… keep answering your phone, alright?” His voice had become quieter, more like the Matt he had heard when he saw him last, standing on his porch with his fingers in his.

“Alright.. go… go be fuckin’… G.I. Joe or some shit… Eat some pizza, fuck some women, send me a pair of panties… I’ll talk to you soon… and I’ll answer, I promise.”

“Bye, Gates.” The words were even more of a whisper as the phone line went dead and Brian held tight to the shampoo-covered cell phone in his hand for a bit too long. So what if he didn’t want the call to end? He just missed his best friend… Right? Yeah.

-

Letters had come in for Brian pretty much once a week once Matt was settled in Italy, though he never quite said where, and Brian had to rely on the mailing address he was given, hoping they would get to the right place. Phone calls were far and few between. Matt was in Italy, keeping the peace, learning, learning, and learning some more. He was bonding with the men he referred to as his brothers, and every letter was involving some other guys who made life more bearable. Never once did he call them his best friends, though. That spot was reserved for Brian, and they both knew that.

After Italy came Belgium, and the letters slowed right down. He was busier, harder to reach, and Brian was practically dying for a phone call after about six months. The letters just weren’t quite cutting it. It sucked. Brian’s job was pretty mundane, his courses at the college revolving around mechanics and how things worked was the only fun thing in his life, aside from the letters that he was getting once a month now.

A full year had passed since their night at the park, and Matt was right on time with his phone call. Brian was amazed by how he remembered it, accounted for the time difference, and found himself a little stunned at remembering it, but he answered the phone anyway.

“I’m not allowed to be down here, doing this shit, so if I get fucking killed, I’m going to haunt you, Haner.” Matt spoke in hushed tones, though Brian could hear the ghost of a laugh in his voice.

“Well… not gonna lie and say I’m not happy to hear from you, shithead. It’d been like… fuckin’ six months since you called.” He made quick note to stop sounding like a girl, hoping inwardly that Matt wouldn’t call him on this bullshit for once.

“I know… Bri… I’m sorry. I’ve been fucking busy… It sucks not running my ass over to your house to tell you what’s going on. I mailed you some Belgian chocolate to make up for it, and I even paid extra to make sure it got there fast, and no problems with customs. I figured a fatass like you would forgive me if I gave you chocolate.”

“Fuck you for exploiting my tendencies.” Brian growled, but he couldn’t hide how fucking elated he was. Matt was on the other end of the line, no matter how brief it was, and he was okay, and sending him chocolate.

“I just wanted to… uh… call and say that I’m sorry I haven’t called, and I… uh… I miss you. But I have to go… I can hear footsteps, and I’ll be fucked.” Matt whispered, praying that he wouldn’t be caught. If he was, it’d just be even longer before he got access to the phone again.

“I uh… miss you too… go, and don’t get caught. I forgive you… be safe, alright?” Matt’s quiet confirmation resounded in Brian’s head as the phone was hung up again. He felt lighter, but heavier at the same time. Matt was there in a flash, but gone just as quickly as he came. It was just a part of his life, he knew that much, and he couldn’t really hold it against him. The chocolate was comforting when it came, and another shitty poem was taped to the wrapper. Brian had a mouthful of chocolate when his eyes moved over the scribbled words, breaking into a toothy grin all the same.

_“Roses are red, this wrapper is blue, I hope this delicious chocolate that cost me way more than I had wanted to spend, makes me not calling, up to you.”_

-

The letters and the phone calls dropped right off into nothing at the two year mark, a week after Matt and his brothers had found themselves in the midst of the turmoil in Iraq. The last phone call had been a short message on his answering machine, a fearful-sounding Matt looking for some kind of comfort in the recorded message he found. He had needed Brian to talk to, even briefly, just to remind him that he had something to come home to, that he would come home and everything would be fine. This wasn’t training in Europe. This was life or death, and it was waiting for him in the sandy terrain. Brian had passed out on his bed, his phone vibrating consistently next to his head, but sleepless nights and working too many hours had kept him from waking up to the sound he was dying to hear.

_“…I… I miss you, Bri… and I’m scared… but I’ll be okay. Yeah… I’ll be fine. Just another year and I’ll be back.”_ The voicemail had ended, and after torturing himself with listening to it over and over for an hour before he made it out of bed, Brian couldn’t have felt like a worse human being. The one time he was really needed,  what could be the last phone call he ever got from his best friend, and he was too tired to wake up for his phone.

A heavy heart was in his chest, no trips to school, sick days were taken at work, and Brian did his best not to put the voicemail on repeat for him to hear all of the time. It was hard to think of the man who had been his rock as someone so afraid of… dying. The thought hadn’t really crossed his mind until he’d heard the voicemail, but it hit him like a freight train. What if Matt didn’t come back home? What if he couldn’t come back home? The possibilities were making his head spin, and on an empty stomach, he felt so nauseated.

-

Three years to the day, and Brian was sitting on his front porch, cell phone in hand, waiting for the man to pull into his driveway like they had talked about. He sat out there all day, taking little breaks to pee, to grab a sandwich and a beer from the night before. He didn’t want to miss the minute Matt pulled up.

But Matt didn’t pull up.

Three days of the same routine, and Matt still hadn’t shown up.

Calls were made to the Sanders home, looking for some kind of insight, hoping his best friend had made some kind of contact with them.

Nothing. Almost a year, and not a single word had been heard from their war hero.

Brian had only felt this lost the day that Matt had left, and he’d stood in the empty driveway.

-

Three weeks, and Brian had given up. There had been no declaration of his soldier… his best friend… being Missing in Action, or a Prisoner of War… not even a Killed in Battle, or Wounded in Battle. Nothing.

This kind of silence was the kind that made it hard for Brian to get out of bed every morning.

-

That silence was broken by the sound of tires on the street in front of his house two months after Soldier Sanders was supposed to be back home.

The vehicle sounded odd on the quiet street, the early morning light traffic gone, and Brian was in the kitchen making coffee. He’d managed to afford a place of his own after finishing college and finding a good, steady job. He rented out half a house with a girl he’d met in school. A lesbian, nonetheless. She was cool, obviously not his type.

What Brian had come to realize was that the soldier he was waiting for… was his type.

Hannah, the dear roommate, had been the one to answer the door, looking grim when she pattered into the kitchen, a soft, sombre look on her face as she touched Brian’s arm. “There’s… uh… there’s a guy in uniform on the doorstep, Brian.” She knew well enough what her roommate of six months was waiting for. Brian felt his heart shatter against the floor.

He took steps towards the front door, shaking steps, wobbling against the hardwood floor as if he was a little drunk, and he felt a little light headed. All he could see was the back of a smooth, shaved head, a beret covering the top. He fought hard to hold the tears back, expecting a formal looking letter when he pushed the screen door open. “You’re looking for me?”

The man turned, his head tipped down slightly, lip bitten between two rows of perfect teeth, and when Brian managed to lift his eyes off of the floor, the dimples practically stopped his heart.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, Brian I’m sorry it took me so long to get back but I have something that I hope will make it up to you.” The man recited, grin spreading across his face as he pulled out another Belgian chocolate bar.

“Fuck the chocolate, Sanders.” Brian grunted, unable to keep himself under any kind of control and flinging himself onto the strong, burly and built form in front of him. The vehicle had driven off, Matt’s bag rested beside him, and the military man dropped the chocolate bar in favour of hugging his best friend as tight as physically possible. He heard the breath that he squeezed out of him, and wasn’t too eager to let him catch it, but when he pulled back and attempted to set Brian down on his feet, he fell short and instead, his lips were caught in a firm, demanding kiss from the lips of his best friend.

He couldn’t fucking believe it.

Brian almost pulled back when there was no return of passion right away, his anxiety building. What if Matt wasn’t… what if… His doubts were eased when his back met with the shitty screen door, and he was being kissed back with such a rabid fervour that he felt like his face might be kissed off.

“Thank fucking God.” Matt murmured against the other man’s thin lips, having to use a bit of force when he pulled back from Brian, the slightly older man unwilling to let go. 

“Haner. It’s been a fucking shitty three years without you, and the letters and the phone calls, and even the night we said our real good bye, I knew that I was going to come home and you would be waiting for me. Now… I’m not going to go anywhere again. I’m out of the army. And I won’t let you go. So I think we need to be together.” 

“Fuck you.” The first words from Brian’s lips had caught Matt off-guard, and he nearly fell over before Brian was grabbing his face in both hands, kissing him like his life depended on it, nodding while the droplets rolled down his cheeks. “Fucking yes... and I’ll fucking kill you if you ever do that to me again.”

“You can count on me, fucker, even if this shit is a little crazy.” And it was crazy. But the good kind of crazy. The lasting kind of crazy.


End file.
